


Moving On

by ellebeedarling



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Budding Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Survivors Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: Steve finds himself falling for his commanding officer, but the ghosts of the past won't leave him alone.





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Steve Cortez Appreciation Week](http://https://stevencortez.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Thanks to everyone who read, liked, and commented over there. Now it's all in one place for everyone's convenience!

He tries not to stare. His mother had always told him it was rude. It's no mean feat, however. Eyes blue enough to rival his own watch him with sympathy, if not a little bit of pity. Steve doesn't appreciate the pity, but he's become accustomed to it. Anyway, he's honored that the man directing pity his way has taken a little time out of his hectic schedule to come check on him. Hell, he's honored to be serving with the man – the most famous human in recent memory – aboard this ship – the most impressive one in the fleet.

 

Part of him is a little jealous that Joker is the one to pilot the  _ Normandy _ . Steve is a damn fine pilot in his own right, although he's never been one to brag. If he's honest with himself, he knows he has the more important job. Getting Shepard to the ground and back to the ship safely? Well, nothing but the entire war effort hinges on that, and that's all in Steve's capable hands. Perhaps he's not jealous of Joker after all.

 

“You were staring,” Vega announces when the elevator departs the shuttle bay. His back is to Steve, and he's tinkering away at his weapon's bench. Working on the team's actual weapons for once, rather than honing the unstoppable force that is James Vega.

 

“No harm in enjoying the view,” Steve says, and really, he could be referring to either Shepard or Vega with that comment. The pang of guilt stabs his heart. It always does. Steve curses internally, wondering if it'll ever go away.

 

**

 

“ _ Don't make me an anchor, Steve. Promise me.” _

 

He's listened to this message fifteen times already this morning. The tears stream, unbidden, down his cheeks, but he doesn't even try to stem the tide. James is being considerate, for once, giving him the space he needs, and Steve is well aware that it's no longer grieving. This is wallowing. Self-pity, self-doubt, self-loathing. He's heaped a healthy helping of all three on his head today. For months he'd believed that he'd finally put it all behind him, but honestly, is that even possible? How does one find the strength to go on when everything they've ever loved and wanted is dead?

 

Blue eyes, bright and clear as tropic waters, compound the guilt he feels. The guilt leads to more grief. Grief to more wallowing. It's an endless, nightmarish cycle that he can't escape. He loved Robert with his whole heart, but Robert is dead. And Steve has done the one thing the love of his life had asked him not to do – Robert has become the anchor he always feared being. The weight around Steve's heart is like a millstone, keeping him at the bottom of an unending ocean of sorrow and regret, of longing for what could have – should have – been. It's an anchor tying him to the past.

 

He hates it. Hates Robert for leaving him. Hates himself for not dying, too. Now the entire galaxy is facing extinction, and Steve has to wonder why. Why did he fight so hard to get away from the Collectors? Why did he survive only to die now from a broken heart or a stray Reaper beam? It isn't fair, and that thought has never hit him so hard as it does this moment.

 

“ _ I love you, but I know you,”  _ Robert calls to him from beyond the grave. Why did he record this? Why does he torture himself with it?

 

A heavy hand on his shoulder makes him tense. Glancing across the room through the fog of his tears, Steve realizes that James is still working, headset covering his ears so as not to intrude on Steve's moment. His gaze flicks over his shoulder, and he sees that Commander Shepard has no such consideration.

 

Steve heaves a sigh, unable to meet the man's eyes.

 

“Steve?” Shepard's voice is soft and full of concern, it settles deep within Steve's heart, warming the hollow place left cold by his husband's death. His next breath comes a little easier as he focuses on the weight and heat of Shepard's hand on his shoulder.

 

Shepard is close, close enough that Steve could turn into his arms and weep on the man's shoulder. Something tells him that Shepard wouldn't reject him, but this is his own burden to bear. 

 

“I grieved, said goodbye, made my peace,” he hears himself murmuring, all the pain and heartache come tumbling out, and he's powerless to stop it. He feels foolish, but the pity is gone from Shepard's eyes. In its place is understanding – empathy. “You've lost someone, too?”

 

The Commander's smile is small, weary, tinged with the same remorse and heartbreak that Steve as begun wearing as a badge on his shirt. “My husband,” Shepard almost whispers.

 

Shepard's life has been an open book for the media during the last three years, and somehow this information has remained a secret. Steve is shocked, then he's embarrassed that he'd had no idea.

 

Another smile is offered, just as tiny, just as heartfelt. “Adam. We were only married for six months, when...” Shepard's voice trails away, followed by a cough to clear the remaining emotion away. “It's not easy to learn to live again, Steve, but it can be done.”

 

“When? I-if you don't mind my asking.”

 

“Five years ago. He, uh,” Shepard blinks, and Steve can see that the pain is just as profound, just as raw, in this moment as it was five years ago. It's disheartening in a way, and he wonders if he'll ever be over Robert's death. His eyes are drawn to Shepard's, the deepest blue he's ever seen, full of sorrow but equally full of life. “His squad was rescuing a civilian ship overrun by pirates. He sacrificed himself to give the prisoners a chance to get away. His life was the only one lost that day. I couldn't be more proud.” His voice cracks at the end, and he clears it away, discreetly wiping his eyes.

 

“I'm sorry, Shepard.”

 

“We've all suffered loss. Adam and I used to talk about it, you know?” Shepard leans against the procurement console, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “What we wanted for the other if something were to happen. The main thing we both agreed on is that we wanted each other to be happy, no matter how that looked. I couldn't stand the thought of the fire in his eyes dying just because I was gone. His wish was the same for me. I won't pretend it was easy. I still miss him every day.” He stares into the distance for a moment, chest heaving with a humorless laugh. “I wish we'd had more time, but that wasn't meant to be.” His eyes land on Steve's again. “I was faced with a choice – dishonor his memory by refusing to move on, or live the life he wanted me to have.”

 

Their eyes stay locked until Steve can't bear the weight of it any longer. Shepard pats him on the shoulder as he turns to walk away. “I chose to live, Steve. It's what Adam wanted for me. It's what Robert wanted for you.”

 

Steve watches him walk away before returning to his recording.

 

**

 

For days, Shepard's words prey upon Steve's mind. He dreams of Robert, of Shepard telling him to make a choice. It's not easy. He doesn't want to let go, dammit! He loves Robert. He wants him back. But wanting and having are two different things. It had been similar when his parents had died. He'd loved them, mourned them, missed them. This time feels so different, too. How did Shepard simply choose to let go and move on?

 

His anger at Robert's death spills over to Shepard until Steve lashes out at him during one of his visits to the shuttle bay. The Commander smiles sadly, patting his arm and walking away. Steve watches him go, head bowed, hands stuffed in his pockets, and he knows. He knows that Shepard is remembering his own dead husband, remembering his own grief.

 

Steve goes to the captain's quarters that night, tail tucked between his legs and a bottle of whiskey in his hands. “Tell me about Adam,” Steve says when Shepard opens the door. Shepard's smile is honest and open as he waves the pilot into the room.

 

A picture of a man that Steve is certain is Adam sits on the desk by Shepard's terminal. He's gorgeous – golden curls and big brown eyes, a wide smile set against a sharp jaw and chin. There's another photo of the two of them together on the bedside table. If Steve has to guess, he'll say it's from their wedding day. Both of them are decked out in Alliance blue, smiling at one another the way only newlyweds can.

 

“I met him at the academy,” Shepard says, running a loving hand over the pair of them in the frame. He laughs. “My first thought was... inappropriate,” he admits, grinning at Steve. “I mean, hell, just look at him.” His smile is fond, his motions reverent as he returns the frame to the table. “We ended up being roommates,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Talk about awkward.”

 

Steve pours them each a glass of whiskey, and Shepard sits on the sofa, a thoughtful light in his eyes as he sips the drink. “He was so funny. God, he had the best sense of humor. He always knew just how to make me laugh or smile.”

 

“He sounds like a great man.”

 

“The best,” Shepard says wistfully. “We lived together for nearly a year before I finally made a move. 'Took you long enough,' he said.” Another sip of whiskey, and Shepard laughs. It's light and full of affection for the man in his memories. “We were inseparable after that. Dated for nearly eight years before we finally decided to bite the bullet and get married.”

 

“Which one of you proposed?” Steve asks, enjoying a rare glimpse of the Commander relaxed and nostalgic.

 

“Neither,” he says with a laugh. “I don't even know how it happened. We were curled up in bed one night, and the topic came up. By the time we fell asleep, the decision had been made. My only regret is that we didn't do it sooner.”

 

“I can relate.”

 

“Tell me about Robert.” Shepard's eyes are soft, his smile warm and inviting, and despite the fact that they're both talking about their deceased husbands, Steve feels more alive than he has in the year since Robert's death. When he starts talking, Steve finds he doesn't want to stop. It all comes flooding out – from the first time he'd laid eyes on the man, to their first date, to Robert's proposal and their wedding day. The trip they'd taken to Elysium for their honeymoon to their first fight as a married couple. The tale is told, and Steve's eyes droop with alcohol and exhaustion.

 

“You should get some sleep, Lieutenant,” Shepard tells him quietly.

 

“Thank you,” Steve says, ignoring the gentle command for the moment. “I... it's been a long time since I felt like I could talk about all this.”

 

“You can talk to me anytime you want, Steve. Whatever you need.”

 

Steve holds his gaze for a moment before taking his leave. “Goodnight, Shepard.”

 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

 

**

 

Steve throws himself into his work, that being the only thing that quiets his thoughts. He finds himself thinking less of Robert and more of Shepard. The guilt is there, the sorrow is there, but he begins feel as if a burden is lifting. He's not sure it's entirely welcome.

 

He's not sure about a lot of things.

 

Shepard asks him about R and R. If it had been Vega asking, Steve would be convinced he was fishing for a date. With Shepard he knows it's about his well-being. That touches something deep and frozen inside of Steve. The concern is appreciated, much more so than the pity Shepard had come to him with the first day. As the Commander, Shepard shows the same concern for every member of his crew, Steve knows this in his heart. Still, he can't help feeling special under Shepard's attention. Hell, everyone on the ship probably feels the same.

 

In the short time he's been aboard this ship, Steve has already seen the difference between the man and the legend. Shepard is unique in his ability, in what he stands for, but he still puts his pants on one leg at a time. Just like the rest of them do. Shepard still stumbles into the mess hall every morning, heading straight for the coffee pot. He still sleeps like a marine in the shuttle's jump seats, chin tucked against his chest, on their way back from a mission. He bleeds the same as everyone else.

 

Not wanting to think about Shepard bleeding all over the shuttle floor, Steve humors him, telling him how he loves to watch the ships taxiing in and out of Arcturus.

 

“There are views like that on the Citadel, you know?”

 

He knows.

 

“Next time we're there, you should take some shore leave. Clear your head.”

 

There's an order there, and it disappoints Steve. He doesn't want to face these feelings – the budding affection for Shepard, the waning grief for Robert. In many ways, it was easier to let himself wallow. “I don't know... maybe.”

 

“Take some time off on the Citadel, Steve.”

 

His heart sinks. He won't disregard a direct order from his superior, and Shepard knows that.

 

“As a favor to me,” Shepard adds softly, and something new catches in Steve's heart.

 

His mouth runs away from his brain as he utters a quiet, “I find it very hard to say no to you, Shepard.” Internally, he's dying from embarrassment. He's just hit on his commanding officer. Many Commanders would set down an official reprimand on the spot, but Shepard is anything but typical. The whole damn galaxy knows that by now.

 

Shepard's smile is a little bit smug as leans in close. “As it should be,” he says, and Steve swears there's a wicked little gleam in the man's eyes.

 

**

 

He's found himself a quiet spot – well, quiet for the Citadel. He thinks about stuffing his noise canceling earphones in, but decides to forego it. 

 

He's invited Shepard to meet him here. Why, he's not entirely sure. Maybe to prove to the Commander that he's being an obedient little soldier. Maybe it's just to have the chance to be alone with the man, if only for a moment.

 

Either way, he relaxes. The view of ships gliding by, sleek and shining in the the fabricated light of the space station, is a sight to behold. He forgets his troubled soul for awhile as he watches the show before him. It's spectacular. Robert had never really understood his obsession, but he'd respected him, loved him, in spite of their differences. He hadn't needed to understand it to appreciate this aspect of Steve's character. Steve had loved that about him, had tried to reciprocate as much as he could.

 

He thinks of Robert's smile, of his hair, his eyes. He was truly beautiful. He remembers the photo of Shepard's husband. Steve never asked about Adam's last name. Had he taken Shepard's? Kept his own as Robert had? There's something so compelling in this shared bond between them. Steve can't help thinking of it. Not that he would wish the pain of a spouse's death upon anyone, but he finds himself grateful that they have this common experience. It helps, more than Steve wants to admit, to see how Shepard is able to face each day without the threat of tears or being lost to memory. It helps to know he's lived, even after Adam had died.

 

Steve wonders if Shepard has dated. Five years is a long time to be celibate. Well, he was dead for two of those. He cringes. Such a bizarre facet of an already intriguing man. Truthfully, he's beyond intrigued by Shepard. He's almost at full blown puppy love by this point.

 

There are a million reasons why he needs to shut this down, but he doesn't even try. Times being what they are, it's hard to let trivialities like regs factor into any decisions about his future. And, yes, he readily admits to himself that thinking about the future is presumptuous. For all he knows, he should be taking Shepard's actions at face value – the response of a caring friend, a concerned commander. His heart doesn't want to let go, however. No matter how slim the chance that Shepard means more – wants more – Steve's heart has responded to that. He decides to ponder it awhile longer.

 

Shepard eventually joins him at the observation deck. It thrills Steve to discover a secret passion for ships in the Commander that rivals his own. How could it be possible that the pair of them share so many common interests and experiences? How can it be possible that Shepard is looking at him now with a smile so open, with eyes so inviting? Steve's drowning in the look his Commander is giving him.

 

The guilt roars back to life just as Steve feels himself begin to let go. “I should have been there... with Robert,” he sighs.

 

“I'm glad you weren't,” Shepard tells him. “You'd be dead, and we'd never have met.”

 

There's conviction in his voice, a subtle hint of anger that strikes Steve. He's right, of course. The time for guilt and wallowing is over. It's time to say goodbye.

 

**

 

He's hiding. Alone in the shuttle, Steve sits with what's left of that bottle of whiskey he'd taken to Shepard's room the other night. He's barely touched it, but it's presence is like the comfort of an old friend. How pathetic is that?

 

He'd left the recording of Robert's final words at the war memorial in the docks. Instead of sorrow over the loss, he'd felt relief. Relief has cycled into guilt once more. “Time to let go,” he'd told Shepard. “For real this time.” And he'd meant it. Saying and doing are two different things however.

 

He's not the first man to lose a loved one to this war. He won't be the last. Shepard's husband had gone down fighting with honor. Robert had done the same. The difference is that Shepard has moved on, learned to live again. Meanwhile, Steve is still wallowing.

 

Goddamn it all to hell.

 

The door opens, and Steve's not even surprised to look up and see Shepard watching him. His face is stoic, arms crossed over his chest. At the memorial, he'd been nothing but supportive. Now he just looks weary. Like it's something bone deep and immovable.

 

“How do I move on?” Steve asks, voice weak and pitiful. Shepard's face softens – the stark lines smoothing into a genuine smile.

 

“You're already doing it, Steve. One day at a time. You're letting go, little by little. It's all we can do. There is no magic formula.”

 

“Wouldn't it be nice if there was just a pill you could take?”

 

“Would it, though?”

 

Steve looks up, the haggardness is back in Shepard's face. It's evident he's been down this road himself.

 

“Adam always woke with a smile on his face. He was such a morning person. I'm more of a night owl myself. For years it drove me crazy, but when he was gone... One of the things I missed most was that smile of his, first thing in the morning. The way he'd elbow me in the ribs, and tell me – bright and cheery – ‘get up, grumpy Gus.’ It was ridiculous, honestly. Used to piss me off to no end. But once it was gone... You know, you feel like you'd trade all your tomorrows just to hear him say anything one more time. Even the irritating things. We focus on the good times, the fun times, the moments that took our breath away – that first kiss, the first time we made love, the first time we said the words. But what plagues me every day – still – are the little things, the mundane things. Adam always – fucking  _ always _ – left his socks in a pile between the dresser and the wall, then he'd steal mine when he ran out. I hated it. But once he was gone, I started piling my socks there. Such stupid, insignificant things. He was left handed, so we bumped elbows at dinner if we didn't sit on the right side. He didn't load the dishwasher the way my mom had taught me to do, so we'd argue because the forks never came clean after he'd done a load. He had a cowlick that he always tried to cover up, but it was there every morning, greeting me along with his smile. And I just miss it all... so fucking much, you know.”

 

Shepard stops and enters the shuttle taking the seat beside Steve. He reaches for the bottle of whiskey, and Steve hands it over, watching with interest as Shepard brings it to his lips, as his throat bobs with the swallow. “You'll always remember those things, Steve. It never goes away. But now I smile at those memories. They're how I keep him close. Adam will always be in my heart, even though he's gone. I told you at the memorial that no one can take your past away, and it's true. But if you let it, your past can steal your future. Adam's memory makes me smile, Steve, but it doesn't hold me back. Not anymore. You've got to get to that point before you can say you've moved on.”

 

He takes another drink of the whiskey before passing the bottle back. “It's cheesy and cliché, but there is light at the end of the tunnel, you know. There will come a day when you realize you've learned to live again. And it's okay. It's okay to move on, to enjoy life... to fall in love again.”

 

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until the tears drip off the end of his nose and onto his hands. Shepard grips the back of his neck with a firm hold, fingers massaging away the tension he's carrying. “It's okay to cry and to grieve,” he whispers. “But it's okay to let go and live your life again, too. It's what Robert wanted, and you're lucky enough that you got to hear him tell you that before the end.”

 

He nods, not knowing what to say or even if his voice will allow him to speak. Words don't seem necessary, however, so they sit in companionable silence. Steve dries his face on his sleeve, and Shepard chuckles. They share a few more drinks from the bottle before Shepard makes to leave. “There's no rush,” he says softly, and Steve isn't sure he quite takes his meaning. That soft light is back in the Commander's eyes, though, and Steve is sure of one thing. That look sends his heart racing and his nerves fluttering.

 

He's sure of something else in that moment as well – he's ready to live again.

 

**

 

“So, Shepard,” Vega's voice is loud and boisterous as usual, bouncing around the shuttle bay with a deafening echo. Shepard is his typical, casual self, leaning against a stack of crates while he watches his arms sergeant work. “You seeing anybody?”

 

Steve resists the urge to smack a palm to his face. Way to be subtle, Vega.

 

“Are you asking me out, lieutenant?” There's a cheeky smile to go with the question, and Steve can't help grinning along with him, turning his back so Shepard doesn't pick up on his eavesdropping.

 

James chuckles nervously, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, no... I mean... not that you're... that I wouldn't... ah, shit!”

 

Shepard laughs a great belly laugh, clutching his stomach as he does so. “Relax, Vega,” he finally manages. “It was just a joke.”

 

“Heh, right.” James clears his throat. “But, uh... are you?”

 

“Asking for a friend, then?” Shepard laughs again. “No, James. I'm not.”

 

“Been awhile?”

 

“Probably not as long as you're thinking. What's going on?”

 

“Just, uh... trying to get to know you better.”

 

“Uh huh. Well, you can tell whoever put you up to this that no, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, but yes, I have dated since my husband passed away. Does that answer all your questions?”

 

“Yeah, I think that'll do it, Commander. Thanks!”

 

“Not a problem, though for the the record, you're a terrible wingman.” Shepard tosses a wink at Cortez on his way back to the elevator, and Steve knows the jig is up. He hadn't put James up to that, never mind that he'd wondered aloud about it the other night over too many shots of mescal. Living is one thing, but there's no sense in trading one form of torture for another.

 

He blesses James out the minute the elevator doors close, and feels the sting of embarrassment hours later as he sits across the table from Shepard in the mess. The Commander is grinning at him like he knows some great secret, and Steve can't help scowling at Vega.

 

“So Kaidan,” Shepard begins. “How long has it been since you've gone on a date?”

 

“Date? Hell, I'm not sure I even remember what those are anymore.”

 

Garrus hums an agreement from his seat beside the Commander. “I don't suppose one night stands with random strangers count.”

 

“Hell, Garrus, if you've had sex in the last year, you're doing better than me,” Alenko laments.

 

“Pretty sure in this day and age, one night stands count,” Shepard says.

 

“When do any of us have the time to try and form meaningful relationships?” Garrus wonders.

 

“I suppose vigilantism and long walks in the moonlight are mutually exclusive,” Kaidan chuckles.

 

“It does tend to put a damper on the whole romance thing,” the turian agrees. “Not as bad as a stint in prison, I'd imagine.” He elbows Shepard. “But still.”

 

“There's a horrific joke in there somewhere,” Shepard comments dryly. “I suppose I should count myself lucky to have been in solitary confinement.”

 

“Don't tell me you were lonely. Wasn't Vega there to keep you company?”

 

“Not  _ that  _ kind of company,  _ pendejo _ ,” Vega nearly yells at Garrus. Shepard seems to be enjoying himself immensely, and the way he keeps stealing looks at Steve is making his insides twist in very pleasant ways.

 

“Never know what you missed out on,” Shepard remarks with a wink and a cheeky grin. James' face turns three shades of red, raising laughter around the table. Then he's looking at Steve again, a slight lift of his eyebrow and a smirk that hints of forbidden things. Steve feels his cheeks heat up, thankful that his skin's dark coloring hides it fairly well. Shepard seems to notice however, grin widening as his gaze flicks back to the turian beside him. Steve misses whatever Garrus says next, so lost in his little game with the Commander. Shepard licks his lips, and Steve suppresses a shiver. It just wouldn't do for him to have these reactions sitting in the middle of this group of guys who never miss a thing.

 

“Less than a year, more than six months,” Shepard admits in answer to Garrus' question.

 

“Well, you sure were sneaky about it,” Garrus says with what Steve assumes is a frown.

 

Shepard snorts, “If I can't hook up with somebody without my crew finding it out, then I don't deserve the title of Spectre.”

 

“Putting that N training to good use, Commander?” Kaidan teases.

 

“Damn right.” Shepard laughs, grins at Steve before standing. “Enjoy the rest of your meal, gentlemen.”

 

Steve watches him walk away.

 

**

 

“ _ Tonight could be even better.” _

 

This isn't at all what Steve had been expecting when Shepard had told him that at Purgatory. He's willing to admit that sex had been on his mind, particularly given the way Shepard had kissed him right in the middle of the dance floor for god and everybody to see. And holy cow what a kiss. Steve's lips still feel tingly hours later.

 

But this is better. Shepard had said he didn't think a club would be to Steve's tastes, not entirely untrue. As Steve had said, there's something to appreciate everywhere one goes. The eye candy, for one. Though Shepard is the only eye candy in sight now – not that Steve's complaining. John Shepard is definitely easy on the eyes.

 

“So Spectre authority gets you on top of the Presidium, huh?”

 

“Nah... not giving a damn about the rules gets you on top of the Presidium,” Shepard grins and it's contagious. “Actually, Garrus brought me up here for our 'bro date.' I really need to have a talk with Joker about teaching the aliens new words.”

 

Steve laughs so hard he doubles over.

 

“We had a bottle shooting contest. Garrus won, then I think he proposed to me.” Shepard's face is dead serious, and Steve stops laughing abruptly, staring at the Commander wide-eyed. “Don't worry, Steve. I let him down easy,” Shepard winks. “Besides, I'm not too keen on sharing.”

 

Shepard leans toward the pilot with a soft smile, kissing him right on the corner of his mouth. “That's good to hear, Commander.”

 

“Commander is a little formal for this setting, isn't it?  _ Lieutenant? _ ”

 

Clearing his throat, Steve agrees, smiling when Shepard sits up straighter and gazes across the scenery below. Ships drift by in silence, and this is a thousand times better than the observation deck he'd scoped out by  _ Normandy's _ docking bay. “So... marrying turians? Not your thing?”

 

“Nope. Have you seen those teeth of theirs? No way I'm stickin’ my dick in there.” Shepard lays back and tucks his hands behind his head admiring Widow's gaseous clouds high above them.

 

“I can understand your caution,” Steve says wryly.

 

Rolling up on his elbow, Shepard watches the man beside him. “Besides,” he murmurs, hand reaching out to stroke Steve's thigh, “I've got my eye on someone else.”

 

“Hmm... I wonder who that could be?”

 

“Steve?”

 

The pilot turns his eyes toward his Commander, shifting around to lie beside him. There's a shy smile on the man's face, lower lip caught between his teeth, and Steve wonders if he's ever seen anything more beautiful. Shepard's hand glides up Steve's chest, and the pilot closes his eyes, pressing into the touch. “John,” he whispers.

 

“Damn, that sounds good.” Shepard leans in again, lips connecting for the softest of kisses. Steve is slow to open his eyes when John pulls away. “I don't want to rush anything,” Shepard tells him, voice warm and tender. Steve can't help admiring the man even more, melting into him just that much more, giving himself over to him completely.

 

“I don't want to waste any more time, John. I'm ready to live again.”

 

**

 

Shepard's giant, comfy bed is a welcome reprieve from the claustrophobic things in the crew quarters, but that's hardly what's on his mind at the moment. Having seen Shepard stripped down to his skivvies in the armory, Steve's always known the man was fit and trim. Seeing it and  _ feeling _ it are totally different experiences, however.

 

His hands roam Shepard's chest, shoulders, back, loving the silky smooth feel of his skin. John's velvety lips are pressed insistently against his, tongue nudging his mouth open. Steve takes him all in – the feel of his skin and lips, the taste of his mouth, the hums and breathy noises of approval as they explore each other.

 

Nothing but the thin fabric of their boxer briefs separates them now, and Steve can feel the evidence of Shepard's arousal against his own. Pushing past the waistband of Shepard's underwear, Steve grasps the Commander's ass in both hands, rolling his hips up as he pulls John toward him. A tremor rocks Shepard's body, and he gasps. A moment of flying hands later, and they're completely naked, bodies slotted together as though they were made for each other.

 

Shepard is determined and thorough in his lovemaking, and Steve is not surprised. They find their completion together, and after a hasty attempt to clean themselves up, Shepard lays with his head on Steve's chest, fingers petting him gently.

 

“How're you feeling?”

 

Steve's not quite sure how to answer that. He suspects it will be years before the guilt is ever truly gone, but he's happy. Happier than he's been in a very long time. “Good,” he says at last, pulling Shepard closer. Shepard moves willingly, wrapping his arm tightly around Steve. They stay that way for the rest of the night. 

 

**

 

The last few days have been like heaven. Shepard has been given an enormous, luxury apartment by Admiral Anderson, and Steve has been spending as much time there as the Commander will allow. It’s a considerable amount. 

 

Even on shore leave, Shepard isn’t content to sit and relax for long periods of time. He divides his time between crew members and friends, visiting with them on different occasions. Steve can see that it does everyone good, even John - maybe especially John. 

 

When he’s home, though, Steve has his undivided attention, and there’s something incredibly special about that. He’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone to share a life with. And maybe it’s too soon to start thinking of this as a permanent thing, but if the way Shepard gazes into his eyes while they’re making love is any indication, then maybe his thoughts are trekking along the same lines. 

 

At any rate, neither of them can seem to get enough of each other, and Steve isn’t surprised, when Shepard mentions it to him one night. They’re curled up in front of the fireplace, mesmerized by the dancing flames. Shepard’s head is pillowed on Steve’s thigh, and he’s rubbing small circles over John’s buzzed hair. 

 

John reaches up to take Steve’s hand in his own, cradling it against his chest, just over his heart. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, turning his body to look up at his lover. 

 

“Anything.” 

 

“Is this… Are you okay with this - us - and… you know… how things are progressing?” 

 

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

 

Shepard sits up, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazes into the fire once more. “I just… I hope I didn’t push you into anything… too soon. I mean, it’s only been a year or so since Robert died, right? And I-”

 

Steve wraps and arm around Shepard’s shoulder, guiding him into a slow kiss. “John,” he says softly, forehead resting against his lover’s. “I can’t promise you that I’m over Robert,” he admits cautiously, “but I can promise you that I don’t regret this decision… to be with you. You… you’re an incredible man. One I’ve come to care for very deeply. I just… I want us to make the most of the time we have, you know?”

 

“Sounds like good advice,” Shepard says, leaning in for another kiss. 

 

**

 

Steve holds onto hope. It’s the only thing he has, and it has to be enough. The days and weeks are long and hard, but Major Alenko keeps the crew together - almost as well as Shepard had. They all try their best, wanting to make their Commander proud, needing the distraction of getting home to take their minds off their losses.

 

James brings him a bottle of mescal and they drink it together, chatting late into the night. Steve talks, telling James things the younger man probably wishes he hadn’t, but he needs someone to know, in case…. In case….

 

He can’t let himself think about what ifs.  Losing Robert was hard enough. Losing John might very well be the end of him. Vega convinces him to hang onto his hope, so he does. And the next day, he fights off one hell of a hangover. 

 

Shepard is alive, barely clinging to life in the basement of an old hospital. The upper floors have been decimated, but the Alliance has made the best use possible of the first three floors and the basement. The high-profile cases are kept down there, away from the public’s prying eyes. 

 

Reporters and well-wishers and the just plain old nosey are camped outside the building, hoping for any news of the Commander’s state of being. Steve is equal parts angry, mystified, and grateful that people would care so much. 

 

The entire crew of the  _ Normandy _ are greeted as dignitaries and escorted to the Alliance’s New London headquarters, housed in the most in-tact looking building around. The flight to HQ is short, but there is a lot of crying on the shuttle as the crew gaze at the horrific landscape of the once thriving city. 

 

The minute they exit the shuttle, there are more high-ranking officials waiting to show them all toward wing that’s been prepared for them with hot food and comfortable places to sleep. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a nice gesture all the same

As much as they are grateful, though, they all have just one question. 

 

“Shepard is alive, and responding well to treatment. He is still in a coma, however, and there is no way of knowing when… or if, he’ll wake up.” 

 

Steve meets Hackett’s eyes with defiance. If Shepard has come this far, then he will finish the job he started. There’s no doubt in his mind. When he asks to see the man, Hackett’s reply is no more than a simple nod. 

 

It’s hard to see him like this. The vibrant man he was before the final battle is a stark contrast to the frail man, linked to every conceivable medical device via wires and tubes, that occupies the room’s single bed. He doesn’t notice the tears running down his cheeks until they drip onto his shirt, but he ignores them. Crossing the room to hold Shepard’s hand is the more important task.

 

It seems like he stays at Shepard’s bedside for at least as many months as it took the  _ Normandy _ to limp home.  The  _ hiss-click _ of the ventilator and the steady beeping of the heart monitor become the soundtrack of his life, helping him hold onto those tiny threads of hope that have sustained him for so long now. 

 

Sometimes he plays music for Shepard, usually something slow and relaxing. Once it was the track they’d dance to at Purgatory on their first official date. Sometimes he reads - new stories, classic literature, even steamy love stories on occasion. Shepard doesn’t respond, but Steve sometimes lets himself imagine what would happen if he did. 

 

Then there are the times he simply talks to his lover, pleading with him to keep fighting, not to give up. He tells him what’s going on in the world. Reminds him of the visitors that flow by in a steady stream. Tells him stories about his life - his childhood and family, his enlistment and training… Robert. 

 

The old twinge of guilt still rears its ugly head from time to time, but being here by Shepard’s side - helping him fight for his life in the only way he knows how…. Somehow he feels Robert’s approval, and knows that Shepard was right all those months ago when he’d told Steve that Robert would want him to enjoy the rest of his life.

 

And every night before he finally drifts off to sleep on a cot by Shepard’s bed, he kisses the man’s hand and whispers, “I love you. Please come back to me.” 

 

**

 

It’s been five years, and Shepard still looks as good as ever. That brilliant smile and those lustrous eyes still take Steve’s breath away. 

 

They’d found this little wedding chapel tucked away in Ireland’s northwest region, protected from Reaper beams by its remoteness. The ruins of an old castle remain, crumbled, covered in moss and vines, and hauntingly beautiful. The whole area is full of lakes, river, mountains, and ruins for them to explore, but Steve suspects they won’t get to see much of all that. Not on this trip anyway. 

 

For this trip, he wants Shepard all to himself. Wants to spend his days and nights wrapped up in John’s strong arms, feel those softer-than-ever lips pressed against him everywhere at once. He wants to feel like they’re the only two people in the universe. 

 

The years have brought them joy and pain, successes and failures, but through it all, they’ve risen to stand together, stronger than before. They’ve both learned never to take one moment for granted. 

 

They only have eyes for each other as they say their vows, promising each other everything they have for the rest of their lives. They’ve been through enough hell to last two lifetimes, so they both want their time together to last as long as humanly possible. Their friends whistle and cat-call and cheer when they kiss each other, and Steve will admit that he’d be completely willing to skip the reception and head straight for the honeymoon sweet at the inn. But the guests are staying too, and he knows that they’d never find a moment’s peace if they slipped out now. 

 

So they eat and dance and kiss each other every chance they’re given, and when the time comes for them to take their leave, they do so eagerly, not caring about the second round of catcalls and whistles and James Vega’s war whoops that chase them all the way back to their room. 

 

Inside, they take their time, removing each other’s suits and mapping each other’s bodies as if it was the very first time they’d ever done so. Tears of joy glisten in both their eyes as they move toward the bed in silent agreement. 

 

“I love you,” Shepard murmurs, lips pressed lightly against his husband’s throat. 

 

Steve holds him tight, thankful for this day, for this time they’ve been given, for this second chance at finding love and happiness. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, heart so full of bliss that there is no more room for guilt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [ellebeedarling](http://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com)
> 
> Much love,   
> Elle


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